"...would be a total amount of twenty thousand for renovating party rooms three, four, and five. Aside from that... sir, are you listening?" Conroy asked.

Elain looked up at his secretary. "I'm sorry, Conroy. Could you just leave the list here? I'll get to it later."

"Of course." The secretary looked a bit confused since he wasn't used to his boss not paying attention to his work. "And if I may ask, is everything alright? You look a bit... off."

"No I'm fine. But I'll take an early lunch break," Elain decided and stood up from his office desk. "Please go back to work. We'll discuss his later."

Conroy nodded and left, and Elain turned around to look out of the huge window behind his desk. Since the date with Tyrallin two days ago, he really wasn't able to concentrate properly, and it bothered him. It had been a nice date and a nice kiss, nothing more, he told himself, but his thoughts kept wandering. At this point, he either had to forget the young sire, or he had to keep absolute control of the development of their... relationship. And since forgetting was out of the question, Elain had to ensure that he wasn't overwhelmed again.

With his mind set, Elain turned back to his desk, sat down, and opened the email program of his computer. He swiftly typed a message and sent it off.

After this, Elain felt like a heavy weight was lifted off him. He got up again to grab some lunch together with Marithia, which he hadn't done in a while.

Elain didn't bother to call her office to get in touch with her. It was unlikely that she'd be there at this time of day. Instead, he simply went down to the main disco floor of the first level.

He found her easily enough. She was bent over a row of taps, wielding a wrench and cursing up a storm.

"Damn you, you piece of shit!"

"Language, Marithia," Elain gently chided her. "Why don't you call the maintenance staff to help you if it's stuck?"

Marithia looked up, startled to find Elain suddenly in front of her on the other side of the bar. She put down her wrench and wiped a strand of hair from her eyes. "Oh, well, I thought it would be an easy fix, so I tried to do it myself. It wasn't an easy fix, but I didn't want to give up. I think I'll go ahead and put in that call to maintenance, 'cause this thing just isn't budging. But before that, what can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to ask if you'd like to join me for lunch?" Elain asked.

Marithia just looked at him in confusion for a few moments, wondering whether she'd heard him correctly. "Lunch? That's be nice. I can't remember the last time we sat down for lunch together. What brought this on all of a sudden?"

"Nothing special, besides that it's been too long," Elain answered nonchalantly. "And I wanted to hear some ideas for the new decoration of the party rooms from you."

Marithia eyed Elain suspiciously for another long moment before nodding. "Okay, I'm up for it. Are we headed out right now? Mind if I call the boys in maintenance first?"

"Go right ahead."

Elain waited until Marithia had grabbed the phone and called the maintenance division to come down and fix her bar. Then they left the Velvet Shadow for a nice little place two streets away. It was very popular because of its traditional Avras cuisine with lots of pasta, fresh vegetables, and salads, but when Elain showed up, he never had to wait for a table.

The smiling proprietor, a well-rounded, friendly human in his fifties with a stainless white apron, didn't need any special instruction from Elain and immediately brought him mineral water and a salad.

Marithia put her napkin in her lap and then put her elbows on the table and leaned forward over her folded hands. "Okay, now that we're out of the building and clear of all prying ears, why did you really want to have lunch?"

Elain raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean? Is it so strange that I want to have lunch with you for a change?"

"Change? Change is the operative word here," Marithia replied. "In order to get you to have lunch with me, I usually have to find a crowbar so that I can first pry you away from your desk and paperwork."

"Well, not today." Elain took a sip from his glass as he silently cursed Marithia's powers of observation. Sooner or later she would know what was wrong with him, so he decided it would be better to tell her right away. "But I'm surprised you didn't ask me yet about the young sire who came to the club four days ago."

Marithia leaned back in her chair with a gloating smile. "Knew there was something big. So did Mr. Tall Blonde and Handsome behave himself that night, or did you have to get him kicked out of the club?"

"No, he behaved. In fact, we went out to dinner the next evening. And don't look so smug!" Elain muttered, a bit irritated, although he had expected that reaction from the female lashran.

"Not look smug?! You have to be kidding me. I feel like I'm a cat and somebody just put a bowl of cream in front of me. You went out on a date? How long has it been since that happened? Wait, no don't answer that. The more important question is, did you have a good time?"

Elain let her stew for a few moments before he answered, "Yes, I did. And I'm going to see him again. Please try not to faint, Marithia."

"I think the world just tilted on its axis," Marithia said. A server brought a small basket of breads and a small dish of butter to their table. Marithia helped herself to a slice. "Well, I don't know quite how all this is happening, but thank the Forests. It's about time. I say get out and enjoy yourself some more."

Elain took a piece of bread and spread a thin layer of butter over it. "You sound like I've been quite desperate."

"You haven't been desperate, but I have! I've been waiting and waiting for something to pull you out of that building, something to give you a reason to check out the world outside of the Velvet Shadow. Going on dates is good. Do it more." Marithia took a big bite out of her slice of bread.

Now Elain couldn't help but laugh. "I really appreciate your concern," he said. "But do me a favor and don't scare Tyrallin away with your curiosity the next time he comes to see me again."

Marithia raised an eyebrow. "As if I'd risk scaring him away."

The waiter came then and took their lunch orders. After he departed, Marithia turned her sly eyes back to Elain. "So, tell me more about this sire. What's he like? What did you two end up doing on this date?"

Since it was useless to evade Marithia's eager questions, Elain told her of the two evenings he had spend in Tyrallin's company. He left out the kisses, however — and the strange, conflicting feelings of comfort and excitement.

"I also send him an email asking him if he would like to come to the club again," Elain finished. "But I still don't know if it's a good idea to continue like this."

"And why would it be a bad idea?" Marithia asked. "Wait, don't answer that. You'll come up with a whole plethora of reasons why you should stop just because something could go wrong, and I don't particularly want to hear about it."

"I know you don't, so I won't start. But I do like to hear your honest opinion, Marithia." Elain looked at her with a serious expression. "I know what you've been telling me for years now, but the right person just never showed up. And I'm done with head-over-heels flings with sires who don't give a damn about anyone besides themselves."

"So? What exactly am I giving you an opinion about?" Marithia asked. "If you want my opinion about that particular sire, I don't know what to tell you. I barely spoke to him. All I know is that he was really eager to see you again. If he'd had a tail, he would have been wagging it when he caught sight of you."

Elain smiled. "Yes, he has some puppy-like qualities. Problem is, everything I've seen so far is too good to be true. Tyrallin's nice and thoughtful, and he's been honest to a point where it's almost naive. I can't really describe it, but I guess I'm too used to corrupted characters to believe that someone can be this... innocent."

"Hmm, let's think about this for a minute. You work at a club that caters to and entertains rich and powerful people. You make arrangements for and organize concerts for wildly popular musicians. Now, why do you think it is that you so rarely meet innocent people?" Marithia asked with a teasing glimmer in her eyes.

"Because in my world they simply don't exist?" Elain refilled his glass. "I guess I can never be sure if I don't dare to take the next step, right?"

"You know, I don't even care what direction you go in as long as you take a step somehow," Marithia said.

"I guess so. Thanks, Marithia," Elain answered with a slight smile.

A minute later the proprietor brought their meals, and they enjoyed their lunch in amiable silence. After they were finished and were about to head back to the club, Elain took up his previous question and asked Marithia about her opinion for the decorations.

They discussed various possibilities as they went back to the Velvet Shadow, but before Elain took the lift upstairs to his office, he asked, "Marithia, you'll keep this to yourself, won't you?" It was clear that he meant their talk about Tyrallin.

"Of course. This is our business and no one else's." Elain opened his mouth to reply, but Marithia just held up a finger. "And before you protest, your business is my business even if you don't like it one bit."

"I've given up arguing about that with you a long time ago. Thanks, Marithia." With a last, tender smile for his best friend and only confidante, Elain vanished into the elevator.

~*~

Later on that same afternoon, Tyra sat on the cold cement of the bottom step leading up to the Dalling University student library. From there, he had an excellent view of the large courtyard of the university's campus. In the center of the courtyard stood an elegant white fountain, which was currently quiet and still. The weather was still too chilly to start the fountain just yet, but Tyra guessed it would be running in the next couple of weeks. A few students, mostly human but a few lashran as well, passed Tyra by as they went into or left from the library.

Tyra had just spent the last four hours on a tour of the campus. He had started out by talking to the dean, who had given him several impressive but uninspiring facts and figures about the prestigious university. Tyra listened politely and made the appropriate responses, and then the dean had lead him to the head of the biology department. From that professor, he heard more facts and details, and then the man lead him to the head of the mathematics department, who had lead him to the head of the history department, and so on.

It seemed that they had as little idea what to do with Tyra as he did.

Just as he started to contemplate getting up and going home, someone at the top of the stairs behind him let out a startled exclamation, and something clattered to the ground. Tyra turned to find that a pair of long, fat brown tubes were rolling down the stairs in his direction. A male student who had his arms filled with more of the brown tubes as well as loose rolled-up papers was running down after the escaped tubes.

Tyra caught the tubes and stood up, offering them to the student, who turned out to be a sire with very pale orange hair and a rather woebegone expression.

"Here you go," Tyra said, and he tried to give the tubes back, but the other sire didn't seem able to take them. He could barely hold on to the items he was carrying.

"Sorry about that, friend," said the sire. "Oh great, there's just no way I can handle it. Is there any chance you could help me out? Do you have time? I need to get these to my next class, and I'm going to be late if I don't hurry. Hey, if you help, I'll buy you a soda or coffee at the cafeteria later as thanks."

He must have mistaken me for a university student, Tyra thought. He decided to give the sire a hand. "No problem. Just lead the way."

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver," the other sire said, walking down the way to the building flanking the campus on the left. "I'm Rhaval Walker, by the way, second year architecture department."

"Tyrallin Alwick," he replied. "And I'm year nothing right now. I'm just checking out the campus. Hey, I can take a few more of those for you, if you'd like."

"Wow, thanks!" Rhaval gave Tyra two more tubes, so he could finally see properly where he was going. "So you wanted to see what Dalling is like? I can tell you, it's really great to study here. The professors really know their business, and most of them are funny and nice, too, not just a bunch of old, boring goats."

Tyra barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Just what he needed: another sales pitch. "Anything's gotta be better than my high school teachers," Tyra quipped as he followed Rhaval along the walkway leading to another area of the campus.

They entered a building, went up a stairway, and walked down a hallway to a lecture room. A few students were still standing outside, chatting, so Rhaval heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank the Forests Professor Hobbs isn't here yet. He's very strict on punctuality, and he's known for chucking students out of his class for being too late. Come on, let's put the blueprints and layouts over here." He went inside the large room and carefully put the tubes on a side table underneath a hanging white canvas obviously used for projections.

Tyra put down the items he was carrying and took a look around the large room. Plenty of natural light streamed in through the large windows, and the room was filled with large, adjustable draft tables, some of which were slanting upright. At each table was a cushioned rolling chair. A teacher's desk stood off to one side in a corner at the front of the room, but it appeared barren and pristine. Behind the hanging canvas was a whiteboard. At the back of the room, two rows of computers faced the opposite wall, where there was another white board and a podium for a professor to stand at.

Before Tyra could make his excuses and depart, the university students who had been in the hallway started hurrying into the room. Behind them came a short, older man with a fierce frown, a bald pate, and fluffy gray tufts of hair above his ears. His sharp eyes went straight to the tubes on the side table.

"Thank you, Mr. Walker. I see you've brought the printouts I requested," said the man, presumably Professor Hobbs. "Don't any of you sit down, yet! Come to the front of the class and pick up a blueprint. Doesn't matter which one; just pick one up." The students muttered softly about this turn of events, but they came forward and started taking tubes and papers.

The professor turned to Tyra and Rhaval then and looked them over with slightly narrowed eyes. "And who is this, Mr. Walker?"

Rhaval hastily gave an introduction. "Oh, this is Tyrallin Alwick. He's still in high school and wanted to take a look around the campus. He was helping me carrying the prints."

Professor Hobbs nodded. "Well, Mr. Alwick, what are you planning on studying?"

Isn't that the question of the hour? Tyra thought. "I haven't decided yet. I just got done taking a general tour, talking with some department heads," he replied with a wry grin. "Well, I should get going. I don't want to hold up your class, sir." Tyra started to turn toward the door.

"Not. So. Fast." The professor said the words with slow and careful deliberation, making Tyra freeze in place. The nearby students who heard the professor's words turned to look at what was going on with interest.

Rhaval smiled and gave a little groan as he looked at Tyra. "Oh, man, sorry. I didn't mean to get you into this. You're done for now." Rhaval beat a hasty retreat; he nabbed a blueprint tube and headed for a draft table.

Professor Hobbs was still looking at Tyra with an inquiring, almost imposing expression. "Well, since you're here, you can join us for a bit. Attending one of our classes is the best way to get to know our university. Our topic today is 3D reconstruction of famous historical buildings of Avras. I don't suppose you know how to use a design program?"

Startled, Tyra shook his head. "No, sorry, I'm afraid I don't. I don't see how I could possibly join the class."

Professor Hobbs simply stared at him for a long, unblinking moment. The professor then turned to one of the students. "Mr. Jeffries, did you know how to use a CAD program when you first started?"

"No, sir," the student replied.

The professor turned to another student. "Ms. Dunleavy, did you know how to use CAD?"

"Nope!" the young woman replied.

"Mr. Kinney, Ms. Peach, Mr. Jolly?" he asked. He received a round of no's.

Professor Hobbs turned to Tyra then. "As you can see, my students used to be architecturally empty, unstructured vessels of knowledge as well." The students set up a brief chorus of objections to his statement, and the professor's frowning mouth twitched upward briefly. "So?" And the professor simply crossed his arms over his barrel chest and waited.

The hairs on the back of Tyrallin's head stood up. The professor's attitude was absolutely maddening. "Fine. Count me in." Tyra picked up one of the few remaining tubes from the side table.

Professor Hobbs turned to his students. "Well, you heard me. Get to the computers! Start rendering. I'll be around to answer questions. You won't get this done today, so this is also your homework for Thursday."

As the students hurried to get to their favorite computers, the professor guided Tyra to a computer in the back row and directed him to load the computer-aided design program. "Now, the rest of this lot needs to do detailed renderings that are designed to scale. You don't need to worry about that. Just play around with the program and do what you can using your blueprint as a starting point, an idea. It doesn't have to be exact."

Tyra had his eyes focused on the screen. The software interface reminded him just a bit of photo-manipulation software, but with vastly more tools and options. "I'll see what I can do, sir."

"Good. And who knows, maybe you'll even have some fun with it." Professor Hobbs' face remained stern, but Tyra caught the humorous glint in the man's eye before he walked away to answer a student's question.

Rhaval, who was sitting at the computer next to Tyra, leaned over to him. "It's not that difficult once you get the hang of it. When I was in my first year and just starting, I managed to build a house with this program that couldn't exist in the real world. It was an accident, of course, but the professor just raised an eyebrow and said that even he didn't know that was possible. But if I ever managed to build such a house for real, he'd be the one to buy it."

Tyra wasn't quite sure whether he was supposed to be impressed or amused. "That must have been something," he said, and Rhaval gave a pleased laugh and turned to his drafting.

Tyra spent the next hour and a half rapidly learning how to use the unfamiliar software. The blueprint he had picked up was the layout of the first floor of the Hersh Library, which was over two hundred years old. Tyra popped in and out of the software's help section and began to cobble together a 3D design of the floor plan. Some elements he wasn't quite certain how to recreate, but for those he attempted to create alternative solutions.

His work was interrupted occasionally whenever the professor stopped the class to discuss a particularly good question that a student had asked.

The time flew by. Eventually, Tyra looked up to find that many of the students had left, and when he checked the clock, he realized that the class had ended ten minutes ago. Some students, including Rhaval, were simply continuing to work in order to get the assignment done now rather than return to it later.

The professor seemed to belatedly remember that Tyra was there, and he came over.

"Well, let me take a look at your work, Mr. Alwick," Professor Hobbs demanded. He looked over Tyra's shoulder, scanned the monitor with a critical eye, and then requested to see the whole model rotating so he could look at it from all angles.

"Not bad for a first try," the professor finally said. "You did some interesting improvising there. Not bad at all."

Tyra stifled a sigh. He'd heard the same "not bad" comment from his high school teachers repeatedly in the past several years. It was the phrase they used when he'd clearly done something that should have been beyond his grasp, and they were forced to reluctantly acknowledge him yet again.

He rose from his chair and gave his watch a quick glance. "Thank you for letting me sit in on the class, Dr. Hobbs. It's getting late, though, and I was supposed to head home over an hour ago."

"Of course, Mr. Alwick. But I think you didn't tell me the truth when you said you didn't know how to use that program at all. Did you ever work with something similar? Or did your school offer an internship at an architect's office?" Professor Hobbs asked.

Tyra shook his head slowly. "No, no internship, no software experience. The only thing I've worked with that even looks like it is some advanced photo-manipulation software, but your ProCAD program wasn't really anything like that under the surface."

"Interesting." Professor Hobbs' sharp eyes never left Tyra as he continued. "Can you spare a few more minutes before you go?"

Reluctantly, Tyra nodded. "I suppose so."

The professor crossed his arms and leaned against the computer table. "Let me tell you just a little bit about architecture, Mr. Alwick. People who look at this field from the outside might thing it's dry and dusty work, but actually it's all about imagination — and then being able to put all those fancies into solid numbers. It's also about taking some abstracts on a piece of paper and making them real. That's what I'm trying to teach my students here, but it isn't enough for them to just listen to me. Now, looking at what you've done here today," the professor gestured to the computer screen, where Tyra's work still showed on the screen, "I'm inclined to think you do whatever you set out to do, even if you don't know how at first. Am I right?"

Tyra had been looking at the computer screen, but he turned his gaze back to Dr. Hobbs and looked more closely at the man now. However, the professor's facial features were inscrutable. "Generally, that's pretty much how it goes."

Dr. Hobbs gave him a small smile. "That's a wonderful skill to have, especially in architecture. As an architect, solutions don't always come readily, and sometimes you have to invent them yourself. You'd need endurance and patience and a drive for absolute perfection. Studying architecture is only for the really tough guys and girls. Right, Mr. Walker?"

Rhaval, who had been listening, snapped to attention. "Of course, sir."

Tyra suddenly realized that he'd started hanging on Dr. Hobbs's words and had inclined his head forward to pay close attention, but then he straightened back up and cocked his head to the side. "So you're saying I should be an architect, simple as that? I just happened to stumble in here."

Professor Hobbs' bushy eyebrows furrowed a bit, and he made a great show of harrumphing, but the challenging twinkle in his eyes was still there. "Nobody 'stumbles' into my class, Mr. Alwick. And yes, you should be an architect. So see to it that you decide to attend this university and that you join this department. I have some interesting work waiting for you." The professor straightened up from his leaning position and pulled a business card out of the pocket of his gray suit. He took a pen from the table and wrote a note on the back of the card and then offered it to Tyra. "Here. This is my card. I've written down the title and author of a book that I want you to read. Call or email me if you come up with any questions.

Tyra took the card and turned it over to look at the back. He could barely make out the scribbled handwriting, but it read Architectural Elements: The Basics and Beyond, Fredrick Hillard. "Thank you. I'll do that. I appreciate your time, sir," Tyra replied. He turned to Rhaval next. "Hey, don't worry about that soda offer. Glad I could help you out."

"Okay, but if you show up here in the fall, I'll remember it. Good luck," the other sire said and smiled.

Professor Hobbs actually offered a hand to Tyra. "Good luck, Mr. Alwick. I'll be waiting to hear from you."

Tyra shook his hand and then departed the classroom and started heading for the parking garage where his car was. He kept the little business card in his hand and ran his thumb over it repeatedly. When he got to the car, he checked his text messages and found two from his dad, one asking where he was, and the second warning him that he was about to miss dinner. He hurried home, hoping he would find leftovers waiting for him.

He was lucky. His father was just about to put the leftovers of a delicious-looking potato soufflé into the fridge when Tyra came in. Lissem looked at his son with a curious expression.

"That must have been one interesting trip to university," he observed and took the soufflé back out to heat it up.

"Mmm, dinner. Food now, talk later," Tyra said. He was incredibly hungry and hadn't realized it until the drive home. "Please?"

Lissem laughed, put the soufflé into the oven, and then reached up to ruffle his son's hair. "Sometimes I think I have a pair of starving puppies, not children," he said fondly. "No wonder you got so tall with all this eating. Come on, get yourself a plate and silverware out of the cupboard."

"Woof?" Tyra said as he moved to get the things as he'd been told.

Pretty soon he was seated at the kitchen table, digging into his soufflé and starting to feel at ease. His father took a seat across from him.

Tyra could tell that he was practically bursting with curiosity, but managed to hold his questions back until Tyra had at least eaten half his plate. The he asked again, "Well?"

"I had a good time?" he asked, already aware his father wouldn't be satisfied with just that. When Lissem glared at him, he ducked his head defensively. "All right, all right. I went and toured the campus. Talked to the dean, talked to the heads of some departments, accidentally got pulled into an architecture class, came home. And that was my day." He took another bite of his dinner.

"Architecture?" Lissem repeated. "And did you like it?"

"Software was neat. The professor was a pretty cool old guy, too," Tyra said with an artfully casual shrug. He wanted more time to think about this and look into it. Tyra knew just how easy it was to get his father's hopes up.

Lissem tried to be casual about it, too, but he failed. "Well, that's nice. Maybe you can talk with your sire about this. He knows a lot of architects, too. And before you ask, there's no dessert, but there should be some popsicles left in the freezer if Feadri didn't eat them all."

"Of course Feadri ate them all," Tyra muttered into his last bite of soufflé.

Tyra finished up his dinner and, to his surprise, found one popsicle still sitting in the freezer. He took it upstairs with him to his room and carefully nibbled at the cold treat with the very tips of his teeth as he started up his computer, which was a hand-me-down machine that his sire used before him.

He opened up his email program and found a treasure waiting for him: It was an email from Elain. He quickly opened it.

Dear Tyrallin,

I wanted to keep my word and invite you this time. Since I'm not the one with the good ideas, I'm afraid it's just the Velvet Shadow again. But they have a fine cuisine, and afterward I could show you to mix some more drinks. I can stick to the ones with the harmless names, if that sets you at ease.
What do you think of Friday, 7.30 p.m.?

Elain

Tyra started to let out a whoop of joy, but he muffled it halfway through. He hurried to start typing his response. He'd just about decided to go ahead and email Elain to suggest another date, but this was even better.

Dear Elain, he started the email. That sounds perfect to me. And you don't have to —

"Who's Elain?" asked Feadri from directly behind him.

Tyra shouted in surprise and turned around in his seat. "Forests! What the hell are you doing in my room?"

"I wanted to nab another of your unused, unloved hoodies from the bottom of your drawer," Feadri admitted with a placid look. "And dad told me your trip to the university was cool, so I was curious. So, who's Elain?"

Tyra crossed his arms and shifted so that his shoulders blocked the view of the computer. "None of your business, you popsicle moocher."

"Hey, I left you the one with the extra vanilla filling," Feadri defended himself and tried to ogle the monitor past his brother's frame. "Come on, don't be like that, tell me! I swear upon dad's muffins that I won't tell a soul!"

Tyra forcefully pushed Feadri away and then kept him at bay by keeping a hand on his head. "Do you swear on dad's chocolate muffins?"

Feadri held up his right hand. "I solemnly swear on dad's chocolate muffins, and if I ever breathe a word to anyone of what you're about to tell me, I won't eat another muffin in my life."

"Fine," Tyra relented. "I'm sort of seeing Elain. I took him out to dinner once already, and I'm going to meet with him again on Friday. But I don't want the parents to know, so that's why you're sworn to secrecy."

Feadri nodded, then shook his head, beaming at Tyra. "Of course I'll keep quiet. But it's so cool, my big bro finally having a boyfriend! But why don't you want dad and sire to know about him?"

Tyra sighed and replied softly. "He's not technically my boyfriend — yet. Look, he's not really my age, okay? I'm not sure what dad and sire would think of the situation, so I just don't want to bring it up for now."

Feadri's gray eyes went even rounder. "What? Don't tell me my beloved big bro is a cradle robber! Please tell me he's older than me at least!"

Tyra smacked his forehead with his palm. "No, no, you nitwit. Keep it down. He's too old for me. I think he's roughly about sixty, maybe seventy. Got it?"

"Oh! Yeah, maybe dad and sire wouldn't be too happy to get a son-in-law who is about their own age," Feadri mused. "But you really like him, yes?"

Tyra tried to stop himself, but he just couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "Yeah, I like him."

His little brother started to giggle. "Wow, I've never seen you like this! This Elain must really be something. Hey, can I meet your hopefully-soon-to-be boyfriend sometime? What's he like?"

"He's...probably not at all what you'd expect. He's a proper businessman, actually. And no, you can't meet him, at least not for a while. I've got a lot going on, and I've got a lot of convincing to do if I want him to keep me around, and trust me, I really want him to keep me around. Now would you scram, muffin-man? I've answered your questions, and I have email to write. Begone!" Tyra made waving motions at Feadri to shoo him out of the room.

"Oookay!" Feadri heaved a big sigh, but his eyes twinkled with laughter. "I cross my fingers for you! And you have to tell me if there's a new development!" He skipped out of the room, only to come back seconds later. "Can I still have one of your old hoodies?"

"OUT!" Tyra shouted. Feadri squeaked and ducked back out of the room into the hallway. Tyra swiftly shut the door behind him.

Tyra relaxed and returned to his computer. With a content little smile, he finished up his email and sent it off to Elain.

To be continued...